Rebel in the Dark
by Crowdreamer
Summary: Olivia goes after a child molester who hurt someone close to her from her past, and becomes a fugitive. Still E/O, always and forever.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Comments: **__I'm back! Keeping Season 15 going after my last story, __**Too Close**__. I am having trouble thinking of anything but SVU until the premier, so I feel compelled to return to fanfic to relieve the tension. Am I the only one here who counts the time not only in days, but also hours and minutes? I feel like such a patsy sometimes. I should be perfecting my own original WIP's. _

_ This one's a little different, but I think you'll like it, Olivia gets her mojo back, but her actions are still very much affected by Lewis. She and Elliot are still together, but will they be for much longer? Circumstances beyond Elliot's control may rip Olivia away from him for good this time. No spoilers so far, well except "Her Negotiation", of course. And if anyone wants to go back and read my version of "Surrender Benson," it's entitled __**Twenty-Four**__. _

**Rebel in the Dark**

Chapter One

Part 1.

The bathroom—the ultimate equalizer—would be Dale Carter's undoing. As he rose from the stool on night-weary legs at a quarter 'til four, a figure stepped out of a shadow and he went down on one knee as something hard cracked against his temple. "What the-?" he cried out, bringing a hand to his bloody head as he steadied himself.

But within seconds, another blow, this time to his back, knocked the wind out of him, and he lay prone, smelling the urine from the spot where he had missed the toilet repeatedly over the years. Mixed with it were other odors, probably sweat and vomit and blood, from his exploits with various reluctant underage participants in his forbidden sex games.

He tried to look up, but his eyes never had adjusted to the darkness—he preferred to walk around with the lights out in his house, because it reminded him that he was the emperor of this abode. A woman's voice came from the form standing above him, and said, "Don't move, you bastard. If you do you will get a bullet through the head right now."

As if to prove her point, the woman held out an object, and by its silhouette he could tell it was a gun. It didn't matter the manufacturer or the caliber—all guns had the potential to end a life at this range. "Roll over on your back," said the woman.

Dale couldn't help but be angry, even when expressing that anger may cost him dearly. Even though he was no taller than her, he was portly and yet muscular, and he was not afraid of much. "What the fuck?" he said. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm your fucking Freddy Krueger," she said with poison in her voice, and it took him a moment to understand the joke—he lived on Elm street. But given the paucity of laughter, he knew she should not be taken lightly. She continued through clenched teeth. "My name is Olivia Benson, and you've fucked with the wrong person's daughter."

Part 2.

They say you become whatever has been inflicted upon you, but Olivia did not believe that entirely. And yet here she was, preparing to torture the man on the floor before her. Maybe not the same way Lewis had tortured her, and for very different reasons, but she was sure the sadistic urges within her rivaled Lewis' in intensity.

"I need you to sit up," she said, her tone controlled and even. Instead, he tried to swipe her feet out from under her with his arm, but she had the advantage of more minutes awake in this dark space, allowing her eyes more time to adjust to the scarce light. She easily hopped out of his reach, and kicked him in the face with her boot.

"Aw! Godammit!" he said, and she could tell from his new lisp that she had knocked at least one tooth out.

While he recovered from the fresh injury, she reached down and swiped a nine-inch serrated knife across the back of his neck, and he howled. Now he was furious, and he scuttled toward her on his hands and knees, but she easily leapt back out of his way. She kicked him again, her foot making satisfying contact with his face, and said, "You ready to cooperate? Or do I have to knock you out?"

"Okay, okay," he whispered through heavy breaths. "What do you want me to do?"

"Put your hands behind your back," she said. He did what she asked and she cuffed his hands together, and then helped him to his feet.

"You a cop?" he asked, his eyes wide. "Why are you—"

"Don't worry about it," she said, guiding him to a chair and directing him to sit. She duct taped his hands to the chair, and added a piece to cover his mouth, saying, "These things won't concern you when you're dead."

Beads of sweat began to drip down his balding forehead, and she said, "You get off on raping little girls, don't you?" He shook his head furiously, and tried to mumble through the tape over his mouth. She pulled up a chair across from him and leaned forward, her lips pulled back into a grimace. "Remember Jessie?"

She stared at his terrified face, and hesitated for just one second as a flash of doubt tried to make its way to the forefront of her psyche. Brushing it away as she remembered what he had done, she put down the gun so she could focus on the knife. Stabbing it down into his crotch as he let out a muffled scream, she said, "She'll never be the same again, because of you." Her voice triumphant, she said, "And now, neither will you."

Without looking down at the damage she had inflicted, she wrenched the knife out of his flesh and the chair behind it, and rammed it, parallel to the floor this time, straight into his crotch again. He let out several heaving squeals, music to her ears. A part of her, deep within her, wondered what had happened to the old Olivia, the one who would not cross this line. But she knew the answer—that part of her had disappeared with Lewis, when she realized that there were sadistic sick bastards who would do anything, _anything_, to inflict as much pain as they could on another human being, and masturbate themselves to ecstasy while doing it.

Her actions would mean one less heartless bastard who could damage a young child on this Earth. But what about her—would she become just another unfeeling asshole to replace him? She had to think that it was worth it, if it meant another girl could live her life carefree, without having to worry about a monster stealing her joy.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Comments: **__This story is dedicated to someone I work with—I hope someday a real-life Olivia Benson will step in and bring her some sort of justice. _

**Rebel in the Dark**

Chapter Two

**Ten Days Earlier **

Part 1.

Olivia had been having a terrific day until now. She woke up to Elliot's breath on her neck as he slept with his head on her shoulder. They got to work on time, and in a weird twist of luck, there had been no new reports of sexual assault in the unit today, giving her plenty of time to try and reduce her caseload by focusing on the files before her.

But then she opened an envelope addressed only to "Olivia Benson", meaning it had been hand-delivered, and her hand shook, making it difficult to read the letter inside.

"Dear Ms. Benson:

Twenty-five years ago I adopted my baby girl. Her name is Jessie. The reason I am writing you is because you are her biological mother. I know I am not supposed to contact you, and I apologize for not going through the proper channels. But she is sick and needs a bone marrow transplant, and it couldn't wait. If you are interested in saving her life, please contact me at the number above.

Sincerely,

Trisha Dartmoor"

Olivia rested her forehead in her hand, and Elliot must have noticed, because he stopped next to her desk and said, "You okay?"

She quickly tucked the letter under a stack of other papers and said, "Yeah, I just have a headache. I'll be fine."

As she watched him disappear into the hallway, she questioned her decision to keep her secret from him. The truth was, she thought he would handle it fine. But part of her didn't want to let him in on the shame that she felt for abandoning her only child, even all these years later. Even after all this time, she had a hard time forgiving herself for giving up her baby for no good reason.

No good reason according her own moral code, anyway. She hadn't been raped—it had merely been a loose night with another college student, someone with whom she was not even in a relationship. The sole reason she gave her daughter up for adoption, in fact, was because she didn't think she could handle being a young single mom, given the turbulent relationship she had with her own mother.

And somehow, she couldn't bring herself to have an abortion, knowing there were so many other women who would give anything to be a mother. So she had dealt with an adoption agency, and they had organized a closed adoption. And when her baby had been born with an obvious developmental disorder, she and her baby had both lucked out when the adoptive parents decided not to back out.

It had been the hardest thing she had done until that point in her life—the labor pains were nothing compared to the wrenching pain in her soul as the adoption specialist had removed her own baby from her arms. She sobbed for hours, alone in her hospital room, having not even told her mother that she was pregnant. It had taken months for the depression to subside.

She wiped a tear from her eye and got up, grabbing her coat. Elliot passed her again, and said, "Where are you going?"

"I have to . . . go question a uni about a case."

Elliot's eyebrows lowered. "Not taking Nick with you?"

"He's busy preparing for court."

Elliot nodded, and she hoped he didn't suspect anything was up, but she could tell by the wrinkles in his forehead that he wasn't entirely buying her story. She patted the folded piece of paper in her pocket, making sure she hadn't left any clues behind.

Part 2.

Olivia met Trisha in the hallway of the hospital, outside Jessie's room. The woman, about Olivia's height but with dirty blonde hair and a rounder physique, smiled profusely as she held out a hand to shake Olivia's. "I'm so glad you came," she said.

Olivia smiled weakly back at her. "How is she?"

"She's holding out pretty well today," said Trisha. "A little weak, but that's to be expected. The leukemia has taken its toll though. And you were the only hope I had left, because we haven't been able to find a matching donor."

The doctor, who Olivia recognized from visiting the hospital so often in the past, saw them talking and came over to re-introduce herself. "Thank you for coming, Detective Benson. If you're willing to do this, we will send you to the lab for some tests, and then we'll give you a special medication to prepare your body for the transplant process. It won't be invasive, though. All we have to do is hook you up to a machine that will extract your blood, remove the stem cells, and then replace your blood. It's a lot like donating plasma."

Olivia nodded and said, "I'll do it. Whatever you need me to do."

She turned her attention back to Trisha, who said, "Do you want to meet Jessie?"

Olivia nodded again. "Of course." Then she hesitated, saying, "Does she know—"

"That you're her biological mother?" Trisha said. "No, and I hope you don't mind that I'm not going to tell her. I don't think she would even understand what that means—"

Olivia placed a hand on Trisha's arm to stop her, and said, "It's okay. She doesn't need to know. You're her mother. I just needed to know what to expect."

Trisha gave a curt nod and said, "Well, in that case, you should know that she is mentally retarded, and she has autism." Olivia had known she had disabilities, but secretly flinched anyway. Trisha continued, "But that doesn't mean you can't talk to her. She's actually very sociable, and she's friendly to everyone she meets."

Olivia braced herself as she entered the room, her chest tightening as she got her first glimpse of the dark-haired young woman lying in bed. Jessie was overweight, and Olivia guessed it was because of her disability. Her eyes stared straight ahead, and then rolled up and to the right as she said loudly, "Hi! Who are you?"

Olivia smiled, all doubts about the meeting erased upon seeing her daughter's round face and pixie-cut hair for the first time. She walked up to the side of Trisha's bed, keeping a polite distance from her, and said, "I'm Olivia. It's nice to meet you."

Jessie smiled widely and said, "I'm Jessie. I like your face."

Olivia grinned and glanced at Trisha, who said, "That's how she tells people she likes them."

Olivia looked back at Jessie, who was wiggling her fingers, and said, "I like your face too. How are you today?"

"Fantastic!" said Jessie, rolling her eyes up again.

Olivia wanted to cry now, at this girl—her daughter—who kept up a happy-go-lucky appearance even though Olivia knew she felt like crap. She definitely got some of her genes from Olivia. "Well, Jessie, it was nice meeting you," she said. "I'll probably be visiting you again over the next few days. I hope that's okay."

"Yeah, I would like that," Jessie said, her fingers straightening excitedly. "You're a nice person."

As Olivia exited the room, she ran her hands over her face, wiping away the streams of tears flowing freely now. But she didn't know if she was crying from being reunited with her daughter, or because Jessie was sick, or because of the girl's disability, or all three. Or maybe it was just overwhelming to know that she was the one who brought this beautiful soul into the world.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Comments: **_

**Rebel in the Dark**

Chapter Three

Part 1.

The next day, when Olivia snuck away from work to go back to the hospital so she could consult with Jessie's doctor, she was surprised to encounter chaos in Jessie's room. Three security guards and a man in scrubs surrounded the girl, who was sitting up in bed, rocking, blood on the inside of her arm from where she had apparently ripped the IV out.

Just as Olivia stepped into the room, Jessie charged at one of the guards and screamed, "Back off!"

The guard, six feet of solid muscle, began to push back against Jessie, trying to get his arms around her to restrain her. "Hold on!" yelled Olivia, as she jumped into the center of the conflict, holding her hands out, palms down. Olivia's voice stopped everyone's forward momentum, including Jessie's, although the young woman's head stayed lowered like a bull ready to charge, her eyes wild. Olivia turned to her and said, "Jessie, you want to have a seat on the bed?"

Panting heavily, Jessie sat down just as another young woman about her age, but taller and thinner, entered the room. The young woman had short, spiky hair, and looked as if she could be another security guard, but she addressed Jessie as if they were good friends, saying, "Jessie, what's going on?"

Jessie's eyes lit up, and a smile replaced her scowl as if someone had flipped a switch. "Amanda!" Jessie said, ignoring the guards now.

"Hey, girlfriend," said Amanda, holding out a handful of CD's and a cup. "I brought you some new music and your favorite—iced coffee."

"Yeah?" said Jessie, her eyes drooping with sudden exhaustion. "I'm glad to see you."

As if noticing Olivia for the first time, Jessie looked at her and said, "And I'm glad to see your face again too."

"I'm glad to see you too," said Olivia. As Amanda kept her distracted, Olivia turned her attention to the security guards and said, "What happened?"

The man in scrubs joined them and said, "I was just checking vital signs—I didn't even do anything painful. She just freaked out. Screamed at me to get away from her, and came after me. She stopped when the IV came out of her arm, and I guess someone called security, because they showed up pretty quick."

One of the guards said, "We just happened to be down the hall on another call, and when we showed up, she was pretty riled up. We didn't do anything to her before you showed up. We were just trying to talk her down."

Ideas poured into Olivia's head, but she tried to keep an open mind until she could find out more. After security left, Amanda introduced herself. "I work with Jessie," she said. "She lives in a home with staff twenty-four hours a day."

"Oh, okay," said Olivia. "So she doesn't live at home?"

"No, she's been with our agency since she was sixteen," said Amanda, watching Jessie as her head began to nod while listening to music on an mp3 player. "We consider her like family. I hear you work with rape victims."

"I do," said Olivia, her muscles tensing. "Why?"

Amanda looked at her straight on and said, "We've suspected for a while now that Jessie suffered abuse in the past. We haven't asked her, because she gets upset easily, and she hasn't volunteered any information to us or to her psychologist. But she has had behavioral problems ever since she came to us, and they seem to be unrelated to her disabilities."

"What do you mean?" Olivia said, fine hairs bristling on her arms and the back of her neck.

"Well, I've worked this job for five years now, and other clients I've worked with act out when they want something. Jessie acts out aggressively for no reason sometimes, and she usually looks as if she's trapped in a corner when she does it. And she doesn't like anything in her bedroom. She rips up anything left in there, as if simple objects might hurt her." Amanda got silent for a minute, as if reflecting on the oddness of Jessie's hang-ups. Then she spoke again, saying, "I heard that when she first came to our agency, she didn't like to go near the bathroom, and she would only sleep on the couch with female staff sitting right next to her."

Olivia looked at Jessie, who was sound asleep now. She shook her head. "Sounds like PTSD," she volunteered finally.

"That's what I've always thought," said Amanda.

They both stared at Jessie's chest rising and falling, and Olivia knew she would not be able to rest until she got to the bottom of this.

Part 2.

Olivia fought off a nasty mood the rest of the day, trying to take her mind off Jessie by burying herself in existing cases, but unable to stop thinking about her daughter for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Elliot's voice startled her, as he said, "Captain wants the report from the Cooper case on his desk by the end of today."

"Shit," she said, rubbing her forehead. "I forgot all about it."

Elliot sat on a corner of her desk. "Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, El," she said, trying to keep an edge of irritation out of her voice.

"I'm just wondering, because you seem distracted the past couple of days," he said, trying to make eye contact.

But she continued to avert her eyes, unable to lie directly to his face. "I'm just . . . tired," she said, looking up at him now. "Really, I'll be fine."

He stood, and rubbed her shoulder for a few blissful seconds before going back to her desk. She should just tell him, she knew. But she also knew she wouldn't—not until she found out what had happened to Jessie. She didn't know why it had to be that way—he would be a big help if she allowed him to investigate with her, but something inside her put the brakes on her confession to him, and she wasn't ready to overcome her own internal resistance.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Comments: **__ It's okay, Electrikblue, as you can tell, I've been busy lately too. I haven't had time for daily updates like I used to. But I promise to keep trucking along on this story, because I'm into it. _

_ Meanwhile, thirteen more days to go until "Surrender Benson"! Hard to believe I've written four fairly substantial-sized stories since we've been waiting, and I am working on a fifth. Just goes to show how brutal the wait has been. _

**Rebel in the Dark**

Chapter Four

Olivia visited Jessie daily, drawn to her out of the loose sense of family for which she had always longed. Given that Simon Marsden, her half-brother who she barely knew, and Calvin, a boy who temporarily viewed her as a mother figure when she gained custody of him for a short time, were the only family she had left, she had a strange nostalgic tug in her chest toward the woman who turned out to be her only child.

She looked forward to Jamie's outbursts whenever she visited, especially the way she squealed, "Olivia! How are you, girlfriend?"

Olivia tried to question her mother about Jamie's family history, but Trisha evaded even the simplest of questions, quickly returning the subject to Jamie's health. Today, Olivia had been receiving medications for nine days, and she was prepared to donate her bone marrow the following day. Trisha stood in the hallway with her, endlessly grateful for Olivia's cooperation. "I don't know how to repay you," Trisha said. "You're saving my daughter's—our daughter's—life."

Olivia smiled and said, "Well, gotta keep the gene pool going somehow. Seriously, though, I would donate my heart to her, if she didn't have such a big one already."

Trisha looked down at the floor and blushed, saying, "I know, right?" She started to say something, and then caught her breath. Looking up at Olivia now, she said with a wavering voice, "You know how you were asking about Jessie's father?"

Olivia tried to act casual, but her heart started pounding so loud she thought Trisha might hear it. "Yeah?"

"Well, I know I told you we're divorced, but I didn't tell you much else about him," said Trisha, her eyelids turning red as if they held back tears. "That's because I didn't want you to know how abusive he was." Olivia silently gasped, and Trisha said, "To me. I'm ashamed, because he smacked me around good in front of Jessie, and I kept going back to him. I doubted that I could be a mom on my own, and he was her dad, and I couldn't take her away from him. After all, he didn't do to her what he did to me."

She got silent, as if awaiting Olivia's judgment. Olivia put on her most sympathetic face and said softly, "So what happened?"

Trisha shook her head and looked at the wall, saying, "I didn't leave until he put me in the hospital, but then I knew it had to stop. Jessie didn't need to grow up seeing that."

"How old was Jessie when you left?"

"About twelve," said Trisha, glancing at Olivia for her reaction again.

Olivia put a hand on her arm and said, "Well you did the right thing. You know the abuse wasn't your fault, right?"

Trisha nodded, and a tear wet her cheek. Just then, a noise that sounded like a combination between a scream and a grunt came from Jessie's room, turning both their heads, and a tray clattered to the floor. Olivia rushed into the room, Trisha close behind, just in time to see Jessie clamor out of bed, fists held out in front of her, ready to charge at the panic-stricken nurse looking to bolt from the room. Olivia stepped in front of the nurse to protect her from Jessie, a half-lidded scowl replacing the beaming smile usually present on her face.

Jessie bolted toward Olivia, who held out her hands defensively, not wanting to restrain the young woman and destroy the newly-formed trust between them. Jessie may have been sick, but her strength surprised Olivia as she nearly fell over backwards from the impact of Jessie's full weight against her. Jessie started to swing a fist at Olivia, who held up her arm to block. Bringing her other arm up to protect herself form Jessie's remaining fist, Olivia said gently, "Jessie, it's okay. You're safe. Take it easy."

Jessie stopped briefly to pant, replenishing the air in her lungs, and then shoved into Olivia again, alternating her feet as she kicked at Olivia's shins. One foot made contact, and Olivia suppressed a grunt as she shuffled her feet to keep out of Jessie's reach. Through clenched teeth, she repeated, "Jessie, you're safe. Nobody's going to hurt you."

Jessie closed her eyes now, and as they both caught their breath, Olivia realized for the first time that Jessie's fingernails were firmly planted into Olivia's arms, claw marks leading to their present location, leaving bloody trails on Olivia's skin. Without opening her eyes, Jessie loosened her grip on Olivia's arms, backing away from Olivia after a few seconds' rest to plant her seat firmly on the bed. Jessie twisted her fingers reflexively into strained shapes, rocking fiercely back and forth as she sat.

Olivia risked another attack and took a tentative step toward Jessie, saying, "It's okay, Jessie. I'll keep you safe."

Jessie's eyes rolled to the side, and tears began to spill down her cheeks. Olivia kneeled in front of her, ignoring the scratches on her own arms while she looked into Jessie's face. "You're safe here," she said again, hoping the message would get through with repetition.

Jessie's fingers folded into strange shapes, and Olivia knew it was a form of sensory self-soothing unique to people with autism. Jessie's mother stood by the bed, apparently willing to allow Olivia to take charge of the situation. Jessie glanced forlornly at the floor, and then began to speak. "M-m-my d-d-dad," she said, barely able to get the words out due to her sudden stutter.

"Your dad what, Jessie?" Olivia said. "Did he hurt you?"

Jessie nodded, and pointed down toward her crotch, whispering, "Down there."

Pores in Olivia's arms and the back of her neck buzzed, and she said, "What did he do, Sweetie?"

"H-he . . . pulled down my diapers, and he put his pee pee down there. It hurt," said Jessie, and Olivia was shocked more by the rage inflaming her nerve endings than she was by the revelation.

"Did he do that more than once?" she asked Jessie.

"Lots of times," said Jessie, still staring at the wall, her head tilted to the side. "Until Mommy moved us away."

Olivia sighed, catching her breath before saying, "Well, it's okay now, Jessie. He's gone, and nobody's going to hurt you anymore. I promise I won't let that happen."

But she didn't know how she could honestly make such a promise, knowing that the worm who had hurt her child still walked free.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Author's Comments: **__ Thanks, Andy, for pointing out the plot hole in this chapter. Here's the revised version. It doesn't work as neatly as I had planned, but still… _

_There is a brief reference to a prior story in this series called __**"Let Her Go,"**__ where Olivia has an affair with Alex. For the full story on how Elliot came back and the arc of their relationship to this point, read __**"Twenty-Four"**__, which starts off where "Her Negotiation" left off, and then proceed to __**"Let Her Go," **__and then __**"Too Close"**__. Not necessary for this story, but they give a little bit of a backdrop._

**Rebel in the Dark**

Chapter Five

Part 1.

"And then I told him to go on back to the subway so he could show off his junk to more teenagers," said Elliot.

"Good, that's great," said Olivia, staring into her iced tea.

"Really? You think it's great that I let a flasher go free?"

"Huh?" she said, looking up to find his gaze intently fastened on her face.

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" he said, pushing around his lo mein with chopsticks.

"I, uh . . . no, I'm sorry," she said, putting off eating her fried rice by swishing the straw around in her iced tea again.

He knew something was off with her. For the last week and a half, she would not look at him, always distracted. Every day, she disappeared for about an hour, giving various half-assed excuses that he did not buy. At first, he had thought she was having an affair again. But she was way too sober for that, depressed almost.

He had even tried to follow her, but she must have been too clever for him, because she lost him easily. Now, he said to her with a smirk, "So, you wanna tell me what's up with you lately? Or am I going to have to start doing some detective work?"

She didn't smile when she looked up at him. "Don't you dare, El. I'm just a little overwhelmed being back at work."

He smirked again, this time due to frustration rather than amusement. "I don't believe that," he said. "First of all, our workload is lighter than usual right now—"

"But still not easy, especially after everything I've been through," she said, her voice hard.

"And secondly," he continued, raising one eyebrow to show her how serious he was, "You're not one to complain about life being too demanding. I know a lot has happened, so if that's the problem, I get it. You're not made of stone. But if you're holding something from me—"

"I'm not, El. Now drop it." Then she rubbed her forehead and added, "I don't feel so good. I have a headache."

And with that, he shut his jaw and kept it locked tight, fighting off the urge to say more. Then he glanced at her, noticing a trickle of red coming from her nose. "Liv, you have a nosebleed," he said gently. She snatched a napkin and blotted the spot under her nose, her eyebrows crowding together as she inspected the blood. "Are you okay?" he asked, trying to run through the possible reasons for her affliction.

"Yeah," she said quietly. "Probably just the cold."

Part 2.

Olivia knew she had to do something. She couldn't just sit by while the man who raped her daughter walked free. She had ruled out options—the statute of limitations had run, so he would never be brought up on charges. She had done a mini-investigation of her own, and he had not been in trouble with the law before, other than minor traffic violations. And he had never worked with kids, so the chances of her dredging up another victim were low.

She visited Jessie the following day, and then stewed over the problem facing her during the four hours of apheresis she endured to donate her marrow at the hospital. The man who had hurt her baby lived and breathed and did whatever the fuck he wanted, while Jessie stayed trapped in a hell of flashbacks and mental torment. Olivia could not think of a punishment harsh enough for him.

As the blood drained out of Olivia's arm and returned to her body sans stem cells, her bones began to ache, and she began to tire, as if a flu bug had hit her. Maybe it was the procedure getting to her, but a wave of storm clouds rolled into her mind, and she could no longer see any justice in this world—a world where men who picked out the most vulnerable of children loomed in grocery stores and laundromats, waiting for their next prey. She tried to shut the topic out of her head, but her mind involuntarily created images of a young Jessie pinned to the floor, unable to fight off her assailant, or even tell someone what was happening.

Seven years old—that's how old her mother said she was when she stopped wearing diapers, which meant the abuse had started then, at the latest. Trisha told Olivia that Jessie had not started talking yet by then, which meant she had no means to relay the trauma she endured. Even as she got older, it was hard for her to form a conversation at more than a grade school level. Who knew how long the abuse had continued? Olivia examined the tubes carrying her blood into the machine to see if it was boiling yet.

She sat up after the procedure was over, wobbly and weak, and regained her vertical poise. A nurse helped her up, saying, "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"Got anyone to drive you home?"

"No, it's fine. I'll walk," she said, taking tentative steps toward the door. She got her stride going before the nurse could insist that she stay until she felt better. After she left the hospital, she knew she would never make it home this way, her legs like jelly under her, and she called a cab.

As she entered Elliot's apartment, she stopped in her tracks when she realized Elliot was already home, waiting for her. She wobbled, despite her best efforts, and he rushed to her, wrapping an arm around her to steady her. "What's wrong?" he said.

"Nothing," she volunteered weakly. "I think it's just the flu."

"So where have you been?" he asked, escorting her to the bedroom and helping her lie down.

As he laid a pillow under her head, she lied and said, "The doctor. Just had to get checked out."

He pulled a blanket over her and said, "Why didn't you tell me? I could have taken you." He put a hand on her head and said, "No fever."

She closed her eyes, appreciating the softness of his touch on her tingling skin. "I took some Tylenol. It must have brought my temperature down. I didn't want you to worry too much, so I just took a cab over."

She opened her eyes to find him shaking his head. "You need to learn to let me take care of you, Liv. I know you're used to doing everything yourself, but you don't have to anymore."

He lay down next to her, slipping his arm underneath her head, and she snuggled into him. "Just hold me, El," she whispered, shivering against his body folded perfectly against hers. "That's good enough for me."

"No, it's not," he said, his words creating a breeze that blew against her hair. "You deserve more."

A twinge of gloom locked onto her chest, knowing the plans she had ahead of her, and the high probability that she would never get to experience this kind of moment with him again after tomorrow. She brought her face up to his, her lips brushing against his as she said, "So give me more." He needed no more prompting than this, his mouth grabbing at hers as his erection pressed against her.


End file.
